


dance, dance (we're falling apart to half-time)

by gleesquid



Category: Marvel 616, Spider-Man (Comicverse), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Femslash February, Gratuitous use of song lyrics, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Parental Death, Pining, undefined relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-04
Updated: 2017-02-04
Packaged: 2018-09-21 22:37:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9569774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gleesquid/pseuds/gleesquid
Summary: “We were going to go dancing. Peter and I, I mean. We could still go. You and me, that is, it’s not like we need Peter to dance, or any boys at all, and he’s not very good anyways –,”“Gwen Stacy,” Mary Jane said and Gwen faltered at the sound of her own name on foreign lips. “It’s like you read my mind.”Or: Gwen and MJ will always be each other's favorite dance partner.





	

**Author's Note:**

> It's the happiest time of the year! Femslash February! I wanted to try and write a femslash story a week this month, and we'll see how it goes. 
> 
> This fic was originally going to be wildly different but, you know, life happened, and so did Fall Out Boy. Speaking of which, for some fun extras: here's an awesome, very gay sounding cover of [Dance, Dance](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1KH2gMvozBo) and here's a totally rad gwenmj [playlist](http://8tracks.com/chocolatemoose/dance-with-me-tonight) I listened to a while ago but probably inspired this in some way.
> 
> warnings: parental death, vague comic book violence, as canon compliant as I could bother to make it

i. _she says she’s no good with words, but i’m worse_

 

“Hey, you’re part of Parker’s gang, right?” 

Gwen looked up from where she had officially pulled her scone to pieces. A girl – woman – stood before her, red hair almost golden from the sun through the window. Gwen knew who she was of course. Peter talked about her enough, and Harry and Flash seemed to be fans, too.

Gwen could see why. She was a pretty girl and they were boys and Gwen was a straight-A bio student – she knew how to do the math.

“Yes,” Gwen said. “I’m not sure I’d call it a gang, but – yes.”

“Rad.” Mary Jane slipped into the seat opposite her, as if she’d been invited. Gwen coughed into her napkin.

“What did that pastry ever do to you?” MJ asked.

Gwen thought it was very rude to ask something like that. Clearly she was working through something.

“Seriously, it’s like your plate was attacked by Sconezilla.”

She cleared her throat.

“Leaving nothing but a graveyard of raisins in his wake –,”

She sipped her lemonade.

“Rest in peace, little guys. Gone, but never forgotten.”

 “Do you mind?” Gwen asked. She tried to make her tone as pleasant as possible. _No need to be rude, Gwen,_ her mother would tell her when she grew agitated. _You can get your point across without being rude._ “Peter’s actually meeting me, so –,” 

“Oh, yeah?” She eyed the scattered raisins on Gwen’s plate. “And how long’s Tiger been AWOL?” 

When Gwen didn’t respond, Mary Jane said, “Classic Pete.”

“He’s going to be here,” Gwen said. “Just because he dips out on your dates –,”

She clamped her mouth shut. Mary Jane’s eyebrow crept upward and a smirk tugged at her lips.

“Miss Stacy, are you implying that one, I am dating Peter Parker behind your back and two, he is having a less superb time dating me than he is dating you?”

Gwen flushed. “No, I –,”

“Because I gotta say, I’m definitely not dating Pete. Why would I want to? His shoulders say Channing Tatum, but his sweaters say Mr. Rogers. Besides, any guy that double-timed you would have to be a dumbass with no eyes. And as much as I love to give the kid shit, he’s too smart for her his own good. And he used to wear glasses.”

Gwen’s heart raced as she tried to put together what exactly Mary Jane was saying. She had taken biochemistry midterms that were easier.

“Pardon me?” she asked, clinging desperately to her manners.

Mary Jane grinned like a shark who’d caught whiff of blood. She leaned across the table and for the life of her, Gwen couldn’t lean away. Mary Jane’s dress dipped so Gwen could see an expanse of freckled collarbone. Her perfume smelled of cinnamon and apples.

“I’m trying to tell you,” Mary Jane said in a conspiring whisper, “that I think you’re really cute.”

She sat back in her chair with an unladylike _thunk,_ looking for all the world like she had just told a stellar joke. But there was something in the way her eyes darted from Gwen’s to the street outside the window and back again. 

Words flitted through Gwen’s head, fast as a hummingbird's wings. _I think this is inappropriate. I’m not – that way. I didn’t know you were that way. Could you please pull your dress up, it’s distracting. What perfume do you use?_

“Do you really think Peter’s not coming?” she asked. 

Mary Jane grimaced. “I don’t think so, sweetheart. Not today." 

Gwen's eyes stung. She heard her mother’s voice, _You’re so prone to tears, Gwen, darling. Men don’t like women who cry too much, you know._ She daintily wiped away her tears before they smeared her mascara. God, she couldn’t believe she was getting this emotional at the stupid Coffee Bean, and in front of Mary Jane of all people. Mary Jane, who was cool and sunny and beautiful, and if her makeup was ever smudged, it was only her lipstick from whatever boy she’d been kissing in the backseat of a car. 

“It’s not ‘cause he doesn’t like you,” said Mary Jane, and although Gwen doubted she had ever worried about raising her voice too loud, her tone was kind. “He’s just got a lot on his plate right now. And I don’t know that ‘cause he confides in me or anything. We were neighbors back the day. I’m good at reading him.”

“Oh,” Gwen said. A nauseating sort of relief filled her. “I hope he’s all right. I’ll give him a call.” 

“You know what? He’d love that.”

Gwen glanced up at Mary Jane. Her bangs fell in her eyes and Gwen had to fight the ridiculous urge to brush them away. 

“We were going to go dancing,” Gwen said before the words even had the chance to form in her consciousness. “Peter and I, I mean, we were meeting here but then we were going out. We could still go. You and me, that is, it’s not like we _need_ Peter to dance, or any boys at all, and he’s not very good anyways –,”

“Gwen Stacy,” Mary Jane said and Gwen faltered at the sound of her own name on foreign lips. She stood, lit again in a halo of sun, but now she shimmied her shoulders a little, more human than angel. “It’s like you read my mind.”

 

 

ii. _i’m two quarters and a heart down, and i don’t wanna forget how your voice sounds_

“You’ve been holding out on me, Tigress,” Mary Jane said, laughing with her whole body. Gwen didn’t know you could laugh with your whole body, but Mary Jane managed it. Her laughter started in her belly and rolled like thunder until she shook with the force of it. 

Gwen wrinkled her nose. “Tigress? Really? Am I a substitute Peter Parker to you?” 

Mary Jane’s eyes twinkled. “Trust me, Peter Parker’s never moved like that.” Heat crawled up Gwen’s cheeks. “Neither have you, from what I’ve seen. You’re usually a little stiff, you know? No offense.”  

Gwen shrugged. It was nothing her mother hadn’t told her before. “I’ll admit it’s somewhat – freeing to be here, just us girls. When I’m with the guys, it feels like – like I've got something to prove.”

“Ugh, don’t I _know_ it. They’re cute and all, but there’s nothing they can do for us that we can’t get done ourselves, huh?” 

Mary Jane knocked their shoes together. Gwen felt it all the way to her core.

“Absolutely,” Gwen said, voice breathy to her own ears.

A waiter came by with a plate of drinks. “Ladies? This is a gift from the gentlemen by the bar.”

Gwen glanced over her should to see some men a bit too old to be at a joint like this. They smiled when they caught her looking and she spun back around. 

“Thank you _very_ much,” Mary Jane said, accepting a drink for herself. Gwen hesitantly took one as well. She wasn’t exactly – well, _legal_ – but she had wine at dinner every now and then, and if Mary Jane was okay with it . . .

She glanced up to see Mary Jane pulling down her dress’s neckline so that her cleavage was displayed more prominently.

“Mary Jane,” she hissed.

“What? I’m giving them what they paid for. It’s not like I’m gonna go home with ‘em or anything.”

Gwen dipped her eyes. She caught the multitude of freckles sprinkled across Mary Jane’s skin before she looked back at the dance floor.

“C’mon, Gwen, live a little. You gotta know you’re a knock out.” 

 _You’re such a pretty girl, Gwen,_ her mother told her. _It’s amazing that someone so pretty could be so smart, too._

Gwen couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at her lips and Mary Jane gasped. 

“You do! You absolutely do, don’t be shy. You know you’re the hottest girl in this joint. All grad school-bound, _‘you can’t afford me so don’t bother trying_ , _’_ sexy-smart. No wonder you and Peter get along so well.”

“I wouldn’t say I’m the hottest girl here.” She raised her eyes, looking up through thick mascara. Mary Jane’s lips parted. For once, Gwen had the upper hand and she thrilled at it.

That is, until Mary Jane said, “Let’s give those boys a show.” 

“What?” Gwen asked but Mary Jane was already pulling her to her feet and leading her out onto the dance floor as the bass of a Whitney Houston song thumped.

“Mary, I –,”

“Shh.” Mary Jane placed her hands firmly on Gwen’s hips and dragged her closer until they were almost entirely pressed together. Gwen had never been so close to any woman who wasn’t her mother or her Aunt Nancy. Probably not ever her Aunt Nancy.

Gwen could feel every part of her. 

“ _I’ve been in love and lost my sense, spinning through the town,”_ Mary Jane sang into Gwen’s ear. Her hands forced Gwen’s hips to slide rhythmically against her own. Gwen slipped her hands over Mary Jane’s back to wind them around her neck. She tried to search for the men who had bought their drinks, see what they thought of the “show,” but she couldn’t find them. She gave up trying. _“I need a man who’ll take a chance on a love that burns hot enough to last . . .”_

Mary Jane grabbed ahold of one of Gwen’s hands and spun her out and then the show was over. They were just Gwen and Mary Jane jumping along with all of the other college kids, shouting, “I WANNA DANCE WITH SOMEBODY! I WANNA FEEL THE HEAT WITH SOMEBODY!” And they were laughing and Gwen was certain her makeup was smudged, and that in her pocket her phone was buzzing, and maybe it was Peter, or maybe it was her father, but all she could hear was Whitney and Mary Jane.

 

 

iii. _you always fold just before you’re found out_

 

Harry banged his head against the nearest wall. “Please, for the love of God, just try on a dress.”

Peter cast him a look that was simultaneously fond and irritated. He was very good at that kind of look. “Like you haven’t forced us all to wait while you tried on tuxes.”

“Um, I know that isn’t true because I would _never_ try on a department store tux? If an Armani suit doesn’t fit, I send it to my tailor.”

“I need someone to zip me up!” came MJ’s voice from behind the dressing room door.

Harry and Peter stood.

“Gwendolyne, be a dear and come in, will you?”

Harry and Peter sat. 

Gwen slipped into the dressing room, keeping the door as close to closed as possible so that the boys wouldn’t get a peak inside. She was greeted by Mary Jane’s bare back, her dress hanging open so all Gwen could see was smooth skin and freckles for days. Only she would have the courage to wear a red sequined ball gown that clashed so violently with her scarlet hair.

She looked like a lit match. Gwen's blood felt like gasoline.

“Zip me up?” MJ asked, much less demanding now that it was only the two of them. She almost sounded shy. 

Gwen stepped closer. She placed a hand on the cool hip of the dress, sequins digging into her palm, and used her other hand to slide the zipper higher. Inch by inch, Mary Jane’s skin disappeared, swallowed by flames. Gwen brushed MJ’s hair over her shoulder to finish the job and then she let her fingers linger. Their eyes met in the mirror.

“What do you think?” MJ asked.

“You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen,” said Gwen because her father had raised her to be honest ( _you don’t need to tell everyone what’s on your mind,_ her mother said) and she wasn’t good at lying anyway. 

MJ turned so that they were nearly flush together. But Gwen had danced with Mary Jane before and she knew that they could always be closer. 

“Yeah?” MJ asked, voice a breath between them. 

“Well,” Gwen said, “tied with Flash Thompson when he enlisted.”

MJ grinned. “You like a man in uniform, huh?”

“Cop’s daughter,” Gwen said.

MJ tugged on Gwen’s bangs so that her headband slipped forward to cover her eyes. They giggled as MJ righted it. Her fingers brushed Gwen’s ears, and Gwen had the sudden urge to laugh even though she was fairly certain ears couldn’t be ticklish.

“If I’m tied with _Flash Thompson,_ I need to step up my game.”  

“I’m sure he wouldn’t look half as good in that dress as you do."

“Hey now, don’t be mean. I’ve seen Flash in a speedo. He’s absolutely packing it where it counts.”

Gwen threw her head back laughing. Only MJ could make her laugh like that. Only Mary Jane.

She lowered her gaze and saw MJ gazing right back. They were still close – too close. All Gwen had to do was reach out and then she could – she could –

Gwen stepped away and pushed open the dressing room door.

“Drum roll please,” she said. Peter and Harry slapped the wooden coffee table. “I now present to you – the one, the only – Mary Jane Watson!”

 Peter and Harry cheered as MJ flew out of the stall. The skirt of her dress blurred into an arc of fire as she twirled around the waiting room. Gwen hoped no one else was changing, but she knew MJ couldn’t give a hoot. 

“ _The minute you walked in the joint, I could tell you were a man of distinction,”_ MJ sang, her voice every bit as raspy as a smoker’s, though Gwen knew MJ, for all her partying, wasn’t a fan of addictive substances. She twirled around Peter and he grinned as if he couldn’t help it. Gwen knew the feeling. _“A real big spender! Good looking, so refined . . ._ ” She did a little sashay and fell into Harry’s lap. Her eyes flicked up to Gwen. “ _Hey, wouldn’t you like to know what’s going on in my mind?"_  

As if in slow motion, MJ captured Harry’s lips in a searing kiss. Gwen looked away. Her eyes met Peter’s. He cracked a smile and she smiled back. He patted his lap, waggling his eyebrows. Gwen scowled at him.

 “ _Pig,_ ” she mouthed. He pouted, so she took his hand.

“What d’you guys think?” MJ asked after she returned to the surface world. “Is this the dress for my first red carpet or what?”

“Absolutely,” said Harry, but his mouth was stained with lipstick and he didn’t seem to know what he was agreeing to. 

“One day, when I’m making millions off a romantic drama with controversial religious undertones opposite Will Smith, I’m gonna come back here and buy it, mark my words.”

Harry blinked away the daze in his eyes. “I could always buy it for you, you know.” 

MJ flicked him on the ear, and he scowled. Gwen and Peter exchanged glances. Those two were the picture of bliss.

“I don’t need handouts, Osborn,” she said. 

“Fine, I’ll let you and Will handle it,” Harry huffed. “Can we leave now? I’m starving.”

Mary Jane rolled her eyes. “Okay, whatever. Like we didn’t spend all of last summer in dressing rooms while you debated between Armani and Gucci.”

 “Thank you!” said Peter. They high-fived as MJ made her way into the stall.

Gwen thought about offering her unzipping services to MJ, but she couldn’t seem to force her voice to work. If MJ needed her, she would ask. No need to force herself on her.

“Do you think MJ really wants that dress?” Gwen asked Peter. 

He shrugged. “Sure. But it’s not like she can afford it on her club’s salary.” Gwen bit her lip and he knocked their knees together. “Hey, don’t look so down. It’s not your job to cry for the plights of the poor. MJ would probably prefer that you didn't. Personally, I only cry about being poor 22 to 23 hours a day.”

“Silly,” Gwen said, ruffling his hair.

MJ burst back into the waiting room, not one bit duller minus the sequins.

“So, what’re we eating? I vote ice cream.” 

“Movie stars don’t eat ice cream for lunch,” Harry said.

“Don’t worry, I’ll get cookie dough. There’s egg in cookie dough, right?” 

Peter, Harry, and MJ bickered on their way out of the store, but Gwen stuck around to retrieve the dress from where it had fallen to the floor. She smoothed it over its hanger. It was funny – it didn’t look like much without MJ in it. But she could still see MJ as she spun, burned into her retinas. It would be a tragedy for this dress to never be worn again.

Besides, MJ’s birthday was coming up, and Gwen hadn’t even bought a present yet.

 

 

iii. _i only want sympathy in the form of you crawling into bed with me_

The knock on the door exploded through her bedroom. 

“Come in,” she called, blinking blearily. Her voice sounded raw and unused.  It _was_ raw and unused, she supposed. She couldn’t remember the last time she had spoken. 

The door cracked open and in slipped Mary Jane. Normally MJ burst into every room like sunshine through a window, but now she looked dark and sad and unlike herself.  

Gwen thought about fixing her makeup, but then realized she wasn’t even wearing any.

“Hi, Gwen,” MJ said. Gwen used to love the way MJ said her name, like it was an elegant word in a foreign language, something to enjoy saying. Now she hated it.

“Did Peter call you?” Gwen asked.

 _You have to give men some space, Gwen,_ said her mother. _They’ll grow restless if you smother them._

“He, uh, he expressed concern, yeah. He’s worried about you.”

 “He doesn’t need to be. I’m fine." She rolled her head on her pillow. "I was fine before I met him and I’ll be fine long after he’s gone.”

“Are you – did you guys –?” 

“I don’t know what we are anymore,” Gwen admitted. “I haven’t talked to him enough to know.”

 Fresh tears welled in her eyes. God, she was ridiculous. After everything that happened, she was going to start crying over her _boyfriend_? Silly, stupid little girl. 

 _The world hasn’t ended yet, Gwen,_ her mother told her. _And if that sun rises tomorrow morning then so do we._

“I’m sure if you talked,” MJ said. _Smile, Gwen, sweetie. Smile your heart out, you don't want anyone to know –_  “I’m sure then everything would –,” 

“I don’t _want_ to talk to him! I don’t want to hear his stupid hero worship of the man who _killed_ my father! I don’t want to worry about all his misplaced self-hatred, I don’t want to comfort him, I don’t want to reassure him, or smile at him because that’s what he needs when _I’m_ the one in mourning! Me! I can’t deal with that right now, I can’t deal with him!” 

Gwen didn’t even realize she had been yelling until she heard the absence of her voice. Her cheeks were wet with tears and MJ’s eyes were wide and glassy. All of space seemed concentrated on the bedroom floor stretching between them.

“I should –,” MJ’s voice cracked. She shook her head. “I shouldn’t have come here.”

MJ turned to leave and Gwen whispered, “Please don’t go.”

Gwen could barely hear herself, but MJ froze. For a long moment – perhaps the longest of Gwen’s life – she stood in that same spot. And then she looked over her shoulder.

“Is that the Bee Gees?”

The words were indecipherable at first. Gwen realized MJ was referring to the old record player, which had been playing the same vinyl for the last three weeks.

“Yes,” Gwen said. “Saturday Night Fever. My father used to play it when I was little and he would put me on his shoes and we would waltz around the living room.” She huffed a laugh because it suddenly seemed ridiculous. “To the Bee Gees.”   

“Well,” Mary Jane said. “I don’t know about you standing on my feet, but we could waltz a little?” 

Gwen blinked. “I . . . I don’t –,”

“Come on, Gwen. One little dance. _More than a woman to me . . .”_

Despite it all – despite her broken heart and her shaky legs and her bare face and her sore throat – she found herself standing. MJ reached out a hand and Gwen took it, allowing herself to be pulled along.

This wasn’t like the other times they had danced together. It wasn’t playful or sweaty or fun. Gwen felt like a little girl again, afraid her father would drop her and eager to impress him all at once. She felt like glass in Mary Jane’s arms.  

_"This is the only way that we should fly_

_This is the only way to go_

_And if I lose your love, I know I would die . . ."_

New tears fell halfway through the song, but it wasn’t until it ended and the record scratched as it switched to the next track that MJ pulled her closer and Gwen pillowed her head on her shoulder.

“Please don’t go,” she whispered. “Please don’t go.”

“I’m not going anywhere. Hey. C’mere.”

MJ pulled Gwen over to the bed. She gently, but firmly forced Gwen to lie down. And then she laid next to her. Their noses were almost touching. MJ didn’t smell like apples today. She didn’t smell like much of anything. Gwen breathed her in anyway.

“I’m here, okay? Tonight, I’m here.”

Gwen turned over onto her side. MJ wound an arm around her. She would never know when Mary Jane fell asleep, or if she ever did, but Gwen was asleep within the minute.

 

 

iv. _dance, dance, we’re falling apart to half-time_

“We’re tourists. This is a touristy thing to do.”

Gwen and MJ strolled across the George Washington Bridge’s walkway. Cars zoomed past them on one side and on the other sunlight glittered off skyscrapers. Gwen kept talking to distract herself from the way MJ’s knuckles bumped into hers.

“I have lived in New York my entire life, I shouldn’t be doing this,” she said, sniffing disdainfully as the passed a family taking a posed photo before the horizon. "It's tacky." 

MJ rolled her eyes. “It’s called exercise. Do you think that guy’s a tourist?” She nodded at a biker that sped past. “No, he’s training for some sick triathlon or something.” Gwen refused to concede the point. “And I don’t care how often you see it. That’s one helluva view.”

Gwen looked out at the horizon and – well, when MJ was right, she was right. Gwen turned to tell her so, but MJ was already staring back at her.  

Gwen blushed and went to shove MJ away, but MJ grabbed her hand.

“Dance with me, Gwendolyne.”

“What are you – ?” Gwen sputtered as MJ spun her under her arm. “Stop!” She laughed and allowed MJ to pull her in. “People are staring.” 

“Let ‘em! If I wanna dance with a pretty girl on a bridge in broad daylight, then doggone it, I will!”  

Gwen couldn’t stop laughing and even as people stared and maybe judged, she felt so free. _Gwen Stacy, what on earth are you doing?_ her mother would ask. _You’re not a child any longer._

Maybe not. But MJ made her feel like she did when she was a child with nothing to lose, with nothing to fear. She spun around, her skirt flaring, her hair whipping in the wind, and MJ whooped. 

The bridge shook.

Gwen froze mid dance and looked to MJ.

“Earthquake?” she asked.

“I don’t –,”

Cars honked and swerved as the bridge gave another jolt. Gwen stumbled into the bridge’s railing. She glanced down at the water, which had never seemed frightening until now.

Far above them, a man – at least she thought it was a man – dressed in green and purple landed on the bridge’s tower. He held . . . objects . . . in his hands – orange and smoking and – 

 _Bombs,_ Gwen thought. 

“The Green Goblin,” MJ breathed.

Gwen’s heart seized. She reached for MJ’s hand, but MJ wasn’t there. Instead, she was running in the direction of their attacker. 

“MJ!” Gwen yelled. “Mary Jane!” 

She deliberated for half a second and then she was running, too, because what other choice did she have? MJ ran and Gwen ran after her. That’s all she had ever done.

Mary Jane skidded to a halt. Gwen stumbled into her side.

“Be careful!” MJ shouted. Gwen thought she was yelling at her, but then she noticed the sole red-and-blue figure skittering up a suspension cord like a – well, Gwen would have said like a monkey, but she supposed a spider worked too.

From the corner of her eye, Gwen saw the utter fear painted on MJ’s face as she stared at Spider-Man scaling the bridge. She wondered why –

The bridge shook and Gwen couldn’t help her frightened scream. He was too high up to tell, but for an instant, she swore the Green Goblin looked straight at her. Like all of the cars and the pedestrians and the cyclers didn’t matter to him at all. Like all he wanted was her. Like all he wanted to do was _hurt_ her. 

But that would be insane. 

Or maybe not, because the next thing Gwen knew, an orange bomb was flying right at them.

“Down!” MJ shouted, tugging Gwen to the pavement. But Gwen couldn’t move and she saw when the web shot out of Spider-Man’s hand, latched onto the bomb, and flung it out over the river where it exploded in a rain of orange debris. The Green Goblin, bored with the game, leapt onto his hover board and sped off. Spider-Man seemed to look down at them for a single moment before he latched onto the Green Goblin and was dragged away.

The pedestrians cheered. Gwen couldn’t even breathe.

“Oh, my god,” MJ said. “Oh my god.”

“Did Spider-Man just . . . save our lives?” Gwen asked, still watching their shrinking forms fly towards the city.

“What an idiot,” MJ said, surprising Gwen. She always seemed to like Spider-Man. “I swear to god, he better know what he’s doing.” 

Gwen blinked at her as she ran a hand through her hair, which curled a bit at the ends. Gwen had never seen MJ without perfectly straight hair. It must be naturally wavy.

Something warm curled in the pit of her stomach.  

“Dance with me, MJ,” Gwen said.

MJ looked at her, astonished, but her expression quickly morphed into a glare. “Are you seriously making fun of me right now?”

“No, I really want – take my hand. Let’s dance. Right now.”

Still seeming suspicious, MJ took Gwen’s outstretched hand and, for once, Gwen was the one pulling her closer. She pulled her so close that their embrace was more of a hug than a dance. They swayed, holding each other. Gwen could smell smoke and water and apples.

She breathed it all in, and she listened for the cars and the airplanes and MJ’s breathing, and she held MJ as tight as she could. She was here. They were here. Right now.

“Do you believe in alternate universes?” Gwen whispered.

Most people would probably think she was crazy if she asked them something like that out of the blue. Her father would have chortled. Peter would make a joke. But MJ, because she was MJ, never missed a beat. 

“Sure I do,” she said. “But I dunno how to find one. What about you, science major? What’s the probability?” 

“Not likely,” she said. “But it’s not like we can test it, so. It’s bad science. Impossible science.”

MJ pulled back to look her in the eye. A little bit of herself was coming back. Gwen could almost see a smile.

“Why the sudden interest in impossible science?”

Gwen thought of the Green Goblin’s bomb, and she thought of Spider-Man’s webs, and she thought of them flying away like something from a fairytale. Impossible science didn’t seem so impossible these days. 

She couldn’t begin to put her thoughts into words, so instead she asked a more pressing question. “Do you think there’s a universe out there where you and I aren’t friends?”

“No,” MJ said with such forcefulness that Gwen would have stepped back if MJ wasn’t holding onto her. “Not one.” 

Gwen leaned forward and pressed her lips to MJ’s. She had always thought Mary Jane might taste like she smelled – like apples – but really, she tasted like spearmint gum, which Gwen had seen her chewing earlier. Maybe what she tasted like depended on the day.

Gwen leaned back a little to watch MJ’s face. Her eyes were still closed, her lips parted, so Gwen kissed her again. 

When she opened her eyes this time, MJ was already watching her.

“I couldn’t have died up here without doing that,” Gwen said. “Just once. Well. Twice. I thought I was going to die, and I just – I had to kiss you. I know I should have asked, I’m sorry, but –,” 

“I’m glad you did,” MJ said. “I wouldn’t have wanted to die without kissing you either.” 

“Glad we’re on the same page,” said Gwen.

MJ let out of a bark of laughter, even though it wasn’t particularly funny. Or maybe it was. MJ had a weird sense of humor sometimes. She said it was because of her messed up family, but Gwen liked to think that in every universe – if there were other universes – Mary Jane Watson, beneath the hair and the smile and the sequins, was a little bit odd.

“C’mon,” MJ said. “Let’s go find a club and dance like normal people. I’m sick of this bridge.”

She tucked her arm into Gwen’s and, together, they went back the way they came.

**Author's Note:**

> let's talk about lesbians over on [tumblr](http://bipeteparker.tumblr.com/)


End file.
